


Soliloquy

by Keolah



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Gen, Loneliness, No Dialogue, One-Shot, Stranded, The Borg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:51:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3528389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Keolah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Left stranded alone in space, Annika yearns in desperation for an end to her solitude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soliloquy

I stare at the ship's sensors, not really expecting to see anything. It's a ritual more than anything else. Something to keep me occupied in my time alone in space. I've long since given up hope of anyone finding me out here. I'm doomed to live the rest of my days alone, lost in the emptiness, far from a home I can no longer remember.

My name is Annika Hansen, but it's been ten years since I've heard a living voice use that name. Ten years of listening only to my own voice or that of the computer. If it weren't for that, I have to wonder if I would even remember how to speak at all.

I came out into space when I was young with my parents. They were explorers who sought out the unknown parts of space in a small ship called the _Raven_. They did not intentionally seek out trouble. The _Raven_ was no warship, and if they encountered hostilities, the best they could do was flee.

We ran into trouble in an uninhabited system, not from aliens, but from space itself. I was too young to remember all the technobabble, but I clearly remember my father uttering words that my mother would normally berate him for. But she was stunned speechless herself, gaping into the engine compartment at the shattered fragments of our dilithium crystals.

There weren't any habitable planets in the system, and we had no way to leave the system. Father set up a distress signal in hopes that someone might answer, but even as he did, the scowl that marred his face showed that he knew it was a very faint hope.

Using our still-functional impulse engines, we scoured the system for some way to repair the warp drive. Mother scanned each planet, moon, and asteroid for traces of dilithium, but every search came up empty. We were stranded.

It was two years since our engines went out when my parents decided to try something. There were minerals on one of the planets that they hoped might be able to let them jury-rig the warp drive for a jump to an inhabited system. It would probably burn it out completely and make it impossible to fly the ship again, but at least we'd be able to get back to civilization.

The harsh, volcanic planet bathed its surface in choking ash and shot jets of molten rock into the upper atmosphere. The seismically unstable ground shuddered as we landed upon it, and rocked almost continually while the ship sat waiting. They left me aboard for my own safety and went out, both of them, to try to locate this mineral they sought.

I watched the screens in dread as they moved away from the ship, my eyes darting from the sulphur-stained windows to the sensor readouts. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched helplessly. They approached the entrance to a cave, where they'd found the readings. I wanted to scream out at them to be careful, to turn back, that it wasn't safe, but my words caught in my throat and I remained silent.

The ground shook and rumbled, and the ship lurched to the side. The artificial gravity kept me firmly planted on the floor even as the horizon on the viewscreen lay askew. A burning geyser shot up into the sky between me and my parents. When the sensors settled, I saw that the cave they'd been in had collapsed on top of them.

The comm crackled, and I heard snatches of my mother's voice. I was too much in shock even to cry. At the time, I couldn't even really piece together the last words she said to me. My mother's last words. I couldn't make out what she was trying to tell me through the interference.

I punched the controls into action and took the ship to the skies. I was only seven -- Seven years old! -- but I'd played with flight simulators for fun, and surely this couldn't be that hard? I flew the ship closer to the cave and peered at the sensors, trying to detect any trace of my parents. But they were gone, buried under mounds of volcanic rock, and there wasn't even a spacesuit that would fit me to try to go out and look for them.

Staring at the spot dumbly, I hung in the air for several long moments before another explosion of fiery gasses rocked the ship, and alarm klaxons shook me out of my numbness. Leaving behind any hope of ever seeing my parents alive again, I steered the ship out of the atmosphere and into high orbit. Fortunate for me that the computer knew perfectly well how the pilot the ship by itself.

And so, with that... I was alone. I never expected it to be this way. Out of the corner of my eye, I kept imagining that I saw my parents. While I slept, I could swear that I heard their voices, but when I woke with a start, there was nobody there. I kept looking at the empty chairs in the dining area and thinking, this is where Daddy drinks his coffee every morning. Mommy likes her pancakes with strawberries. But then I have to remind myself that it should be in the past tense, that they're gone, they're not coming back, they aren't ever coming back, and I will be alone forever.

I talk to myself. I talk to the computer. It talks back, but it isn't very smart. It's very literal. It wasn't designed for entertaining children. It wasn't meant to be a babysitter.

For all the fact that the warp drive is beyond repair, the rest of the ship remains in good shape. My parents made sure that everything was perfect before attempting their risky venture. Perhaps they simply wanted to make sure that the ship could get out of the fiery atmosphere again. Or perhaps they realized that there was a very real possibility that one or both of them might not come back alive.

The replicators keep me well-fed. The _Raven_ 's solar panels and deuterium collectors ensure that it could keep running virtually indefinitely, barring interference. The communicators continue to beam out a distress call that I doubt anyone can hear. One day, one day, perhaps someone will wander into this system, whether exploring or having heard my signal, and take me away from here.

I stare down at the sensor readouts. A blip has appeared on the edge of the system. Could it be that someone has finally answered me? No, more likely it's merely a sensor glitch. I begin a system diagnostic, not really believing my eyes.

The diagnostic comes up clean. The sensors are not malfunctioning. There is a ship approaching me.

It's the Borg. They've come to assimilate me. They'll strip away my individuality and invade my mind, leaving me as nothing more than a drone.

I welcome them with open arms. I never want to be alone again.


End file.
